Two days have passed since that gong show over at Brightstone. In those two days, Knox reports that Xavier and Tyler have got their little protest movement going strong; it must be half the city is up in arms against the government trying to implement martial law, the way he tells it. I took a peak myself last night. While Knox has clearly developed a sense of hyperbole, he's right in that the demonstrators in front of the old Venture Tower got pretty big really fast. Deb of Night seems to have picked up the protest ball and is running for the goal line with it hard; every other caller is about how this exact kind of thing is happening all up and down the West Coast. One caller even mentioned that the Portland Chapter is already starting to shut down. Here in LA, Tyler and X seem to be backstage players. I'm pretty damn sure that was X's call. Given his association with Confession, Tyler really has very little choice but to keep a low profile anyway. He and Damsel have opened the doors to the Hollowbrook as a temporary shelter while the church turned nightclub id getting rebuilt into a more permanent 'resource center' for the 'marginalized.' I actually like that. Being Nosferatu, I know a little bit about being regarded as second class. Granted we Nos make use of that status to keep us on the fringe where we can operate basically unmonitored by those who like to be willfully blind, but that doesn't change the fact that those who are on the fringe frequently get disregarded, disrespected, and dismissed by the 'upper classes'. That or some may try to exploit the fact we are somewhat out of sight and ignored.

Case in point; One would have to look really damn hard to find any stories in the news regarding the homeless pop who were inside Brightstone and their claims of being used for experiments that they don't even understand. Maybe that's a good thing overall; I bet X and Deb have to do a lot of editing to make sure the Media doesn't get any Masquerade breeching info there. As a note, if one wanted to read up on that, I'd recommend they start their search on page five on the fold of any given paper. It would be a short article, no more than three paragraphs. Deb gets a few hits on the experiments, too. The reality of it is this: The hobos were being used to drip-feed Damsel enough so she could used like a booster tap for the goons at Brightstone. The idea was to use her blood as some kind of steroid. What those morons didn't realize was that their steroid was also putting them in thrall to Damsel, which is what really bit them in the ass the other night.

While I was catching up on the night to night affairs of LA; like Naked Fire coming in to replace Ebola Cereal at the Pit, Fenris tagging with Damsel, VV chatting up pretty much everybody – and doing a much better job of it than Danielle DeVries, I might add; I didn't much like it, but I had a pretty good idea that VV was going to be the next Harpy as well as Keeper, unless Therese vetoed that and just appointed Danielle- there was also Jeannette playing both Tabetha and Marko. I'm not sure what all that is about, but whatever it is stinks. Bertram thinks Tabetha might be trying to sweet talk Jeannette into betraying Therese, and that's dangerous. As far as I can tell, Bert almost wants that to happen; I think he figures he can then use whatever influence he has on Jeanette to make sure Cameron steps up. I don't have a problem with that. Cameron is a bit of a bastard, but he's got his marbles in place and knows how to get shit done.

I hadn't seen a lot of Adam over the last two nights; just the odd time when I spotted him shadowing Tabetha; how he managed to get as close as he had without her noticing I have no idea. It might have something to do with his malleable blood; that's what Bert called it when I asked him how the hell that guy managed to learn Auspex so easily, anyway. The way I heard it is that with Auspex, someone can even do astral projection after awhile. Maybe he just got lucky that she didn't pick up on his presence. Tabetha has been off her game lately, but I'm starting to think there's a lot more to Adam Walker than meets the eye. Whoever groomed him for his job must be a damn heavy hitter.

So tonight I was on my way to the Pit when Adam quite literally popped out of nowhere.

"I'm still not convinced that your Tremere Regent is who she says she is." He grumbled. "The more I think about it, the diablerie suspicions I have don't change a thing. There may be no depths Khemintiri would not stoop to."

"It makes sense." I had to admit; getting all cozy with Prince Therese's other half fit what Adam has told me about her typical Modus Operandi. Work in close to the authority, and either undermine it outright or corrupt it beyond repair. "I gotta ask, though, what's her story anyway? I mean what's she doing all this for? To what end?"

"That's never been clarified." Adam said. "Some claim she's trying to build an army of her own to be Queen of all things night. Others say she's pure chaos. There are even some- mostly within the Clan of Set- that insist she is so completely mad that even she doesn't know what her objective is. Those Clansmen say she betrayed their God and Founder Sutekh, and mastered disguise to escape his fury for so long some even speculate that she might not even know who she is anymore."

I guffawed. "But how much stock can we put in what those snakes say?" I challenged. "I mean, what if she's just their version of a boogeyman; old enough to pull off a convincing act, but they all give way more press than she's actually earned? If she's really that old and woken up, why aren't more of the elders freaking out about that Gehenna thing? Why aren't the others waking up? It doesn't add up."

Walker glared at me. It was like, for an instant, his eyes swallowed me whole. "Word is she never went to sleep."

I had to let that sink in for a second. If the legend the way he was laying it down was even half true, then she's been around and active from just about as close to the beginning as you can ever get. Even when you hear rumors bouncing around like how the Founder of Clan Tremere has been stirring and has mutated into something else, and that the First of our Kind is up and around, it puts a chill in your spine and causes an internal reaction like an icicle dripping onto red hot branding iron. I don't put much stock in those rumors; most of that crap has got to be propaganda, but this Khemintiri is the real deal. I looked into it one night and there are tons of accounts. When I said she might be Setite boogeyman material, I meant she's real enough, but then given a big air of notoriety so we go looking for her on one side of the street while forgetting the snakes on the other.

"If she's been up and active the whole time," I said, trying for levity, "that would explain why she's thought to be all batshit."

"Indeed," Adam said deadpan, clearly not seeing the humor at all – or seeing through my attempt. "One must also consider the resources, contacts, and influences she's had opportunity to build up. And in response to your theory about how her Clansmen use her, I have little doubt they do use her as a diversionary device." He paused, and made an effort to speak in a higher tone. "'Look out for Khemintiri, you Cainites, she's our founders daughter and is evil beyond even our description! Watch out! She could be anywhere! She will destroy everything you love and be gone before you even know she was here!' Meanwhile they are setting up their operations while the Camarilla and even the Anarchs and Sabbat are preoccupied. The reality is, we can't afford to ignore their diversion."

"She's really that bad?"

"Yes," he said. "If you are looking for a chance to back out of this hunt, that time is right now." He said this without any particular judgement. I got; this was his way of acknowledging that this kind of thing wasn't what everybody was built for, and he was okay with that.

"I'm in this now." I replied. "This is the kind of thing that turns bones to water, but I gotta finish what I started; one way or the other."

Adam cracked a grim reaper-like smile. That was something I wouldn't have expected. He patted me on the shoulder and nodded approvingly. That pretty much confirmed it to me that I was now in way over my head.

"Good to know." He said finally. "Now come, we have somewhere to be while everyone is at that concert." He started to pull me down a different tunnel in the Warrens; away from the Pit, but definitely a route that would lead us even deeper into Hollywood.

"Wait!" I stopped us from going on. "I get that can use the opportunity try and dig through our suspects' trash while they're all busy watching some lame ass punk rocker jerk off on stage, but the Chantry is that way." I pointed down a different tunnel again. "Not only that, but how do you figure we're gonna get in anyway?"

"We're not going to get into the Chantry." Adam said bluntly. "That's not where we're going. Remember we have two prime suspects, and an off chance on a third. We have someone else watching Tabetha at the Pit, and someone else again keeping tabs on the Seneschal, so by default our second prime suspect is being watched, too."

"We're going to Kaila's place in the Hills." I said for confirmation.

"Yes, we are." Adam said, clearly starting to lose patience. "Now come on. Knox is waiting for us there."

I paused. Walker took two or three steps ahead before realizing I wasn't right beside him. Looking back at me, he gave an expression that asked what now.

"Knox?" I asked. "Are you sure it's a good idea to bring a ghoul into such a dangerous situation?" Don't get me wrong; Knox is damn good at what he does. Bert often says the kid can track like a bloodhound, and he's absolutely right. He's great at shadowing people; his plain sight approach is nothing short of brilliant- he comes off as innocuous and off putting, which makes him real easy to underestimate or even overlook completely. My point is that we are talking about tracking down and collecting evidence on public enemy number one on the Camarilla's Red List; hell, we're talking about going into the house of the Prime suspect of the very Lick that the List was made up for in the first place. Yeah, he's a little on the dizzy side, but I actually like Knox; he's a good kid. It doesn't seem right to put him in harm's way like that. It felt like Adam was looking to throw the poor guy under the bus; like Knox was being used for cannon fodder.

"Okay, I think I get what's going on with you here." Adam said as softly as he could manage. "Look, I need you to think this through a minute; everybody's gonna be at that Whoreador show. If this is our girl, she's using the Roses for a cover. She has to be there or she's either snubbing a Clan mate or making a huge faux pas. Khemintiri wouldn't make a mistake like that on her cover."

"So she won't be home."

"Exactly" Adam concurred. "I had him case the place all day. She doesn't have any ghouls or familiars lingering around, and that makes sense; Khemintiri would travel light in order to make a quick escape if need be. He also saw her leave earlier tonight, ticket to the pit in hand. He also reported he had what looked like a backstage pass on a chain around her neck."

"So what does that mean?" I asked. "Maybe she knows someone in the band?"

Adam considered. "Maybe; or maybe it's some kind of Clan courtesy. Both make sense. Not only that, but we're talking about Knox here; who in the city ever sweats that kid? Even if she did see him, she's not going to even to bother with him."

I took a step forward. On the surface he was right, but then Knox was around on my first nights and he was one of the first folks in town that really took me in and accepted me; lidless eyes and bleach stink and all. He even came up with the nickname Ajax. He thought it sounded all badass like I was going to clean up the Sabbat scum in our city or some shit like that.

"Look," he said as gently as he could; like he was putting on his good cop act. "I get it. He's like a family mascot around here. Don't worry about it. Even if something does go down, we'll be there to watch his back; alright?"

Satisfied, I nodded and we both proceeded on to Kaila's house in the Hills.

So we got to the house in the Hills and sure enough Knox was there waiting for us. He had the place carefully staked out; it was locked up fairly tight, but Knox managed to find a breach. My best guess is that Kaila never thought anybody would even look for a hidden tunnel from the main house to the pool house, but if that's true then she hasn't dealt with the Nosferatu very much. It struck me as a bit unlikely that a Toreador would have a secret tunnel at all; I guessed that weighed in favor of her not being a Rose at all.

"Don't be so quick to think that." Adam cautioned. "The Toreadors are every bit as twisted and vile with secrets as any Nos you'll ever meet. In many ways all a Toreador really is a Nosferatu turned inside out." And then he directed each of us to search different areas of the house. I took the main floor, Knox got the upper level, and Walker went down into the bowels of the place. I had an idea he already knew what he was looking for and the most likely place to find it. I hated that he still wasn't telling me everything, but I guessed it must have been some kind of Camarilla protocol that I hadn't heard about yet.

The main floor, for the most part, looked pretty much as you would expect from a place like this; remembering the way X described the place back when Andrei the Tzimizce was using it, it was hard to believe how clean it was now.

The kitchen was immaculate; barren, but immaculate. Of course the fridge and freezer were pretty much empty save for a head of lettuce, a jar of pickles, a half-sack of imported beer, and a couple of TV dinners. There were a few dishes, a couple of bowls, a matching set of coffee mugs with Egyptian hieroglyphics on them, and an elaborate, jewel encrusted chalice in the cupboards. A coffee maker and a tin of Arabica coffee sat one of the counters. I checked the tin and it was exactly as advertised. The dining room adjacent to the kitchen was fit for a king and a queen; the Oak table was large enough to sit twelve. Looking at it I got visions of a coterie noming down on kine after hapless kine; forgoing the high-backed chairs and just crouching down on top of their prey right there on that table. The front room was nothing short of palatial in decor. If I were to make a bet, I'd wager that either she was planning on staying awhile. That made me think maybe we were on the wrong track. Of course that could be the whole point. I noted a lack of television; but it was feasible a place like this would have a room devoted just to that. So far everything looked basically like what I pictured a Toreador house to look like, right down to the few provisions in the kitchen in case someone decided to bring their meal home for a night. The damn place even had annoyingly pretty works of art everywhere; some of it looked expensive. I wouldn't know a Monet from a Bateman, but this stuff looked like the real deal. So very Toreador...

You two find anything?

The sensation of Walkers' impossibly deep voice in my head made me jump. Was there anything this couldn't do?

"Yeah," I said aloud. "A Toreador's whorehouse, that's what I found. Are you sure this chick is the one you're looking for?"

No, I'm not. That's why we're here and not at the Pit bringing her down.

He had a point there. It bothered me that I couldn't hear Knox, so I asked Adam if he said anything.

He's finding what should be there; bedrooms, a water closet, a walk in linen closet.

"What about you? Find anything?" I asked.

Not yet...

Next on my search was a library. I'll be the first to admit that at first the selection seemed a little on the nose, which struck me as a tad hinky. I saw a large collection of Art History books, a few volumes on a number of different musical eras, an assortment of collected works on a bunch of poets; Byron, Shelley, Keats, Yeats, that sort of thing. There was also an old print of Chaucer's Canterbury Tales, Milton's Paradise Lost – that one looked particularly well read – and there was an illustrated version of Coleridge's Tale of the Ancient Mariner. Like I said; really on the nose stuff for a Toreador. Then there was a shelf of religious and philosophical studies; Plato, Socrates, Nietzsche, and some guy named Sam Harris were represented, along with CS Lewis, and a bunch of names I didn't recognize. Next I saw a segment of tomes I couldn't identify as they were in a script I didn't know; I would have guessed it was some kind of Middle Eastern language, but couldn't tell you for sure. On the chance Adam might know what it was (he seemed to know everything else somehow), I grabbed one at random for him to look at. I thought about snagging Chaucer as well; it might have been worth something, but as I was, I took note of a book left open on a table set in front of a chair.

Forsaking Chaucer, I crept to the table to peek at what was currently being read. I got to the table and saw I was mistaken; it wasn't what was being currently read. It was what was being currently written. Also on the table was one of those calligraphy pens. Glancing at the pages, I saw they were filled end to end with ornately drawn symbols that I definitely couldn't make sense of. All the same, I thought this might be some kind of journal or diary or something; very careless to leave something like that lying around. That was her mistake, as far as I was concerned. I reached out to grab that along with the other one I picked up, and suddenly thought better of it. She would notice the journal she was currently working on missing straight away. Instead, I made a quick search around the room to see if there was any place that another of these might be kept.

"Hey guys, I think I might have something here." Knox and I both called out together.

After a pause, I heard- or felt- Adam asking me what I had.

"I got what looks like a diary written in some kind of made up code in the library. It's done all pretty in what looks like a customized calligraphy."

Knox has a trap door in the ceiling of a walk in closet full of shoes. Walker declared. Stay put and I'll come to you. I got something down here, too.

I heard him get to me in the library. "So show me this diary you think you found." He ordered. As little as I liked to be ordered to do anything, I complied and indicated the table. He took one look at the tome and snatched it up without a thought.

"Wait," I said. "Don't you think she'll know someone is here if we take that?"

He shook his head. "It won't matter." He countered. "We got her, and I think I know what she's doing." He held up the diary. "This will serve to confirm that, and maybe give up locations of some of her other hideouts and accomplices." Without another word, he left the library and started towards the stairs going up.

"What did you find down there?" I asked, following him.

"Do you know how it looked like the homeless population was vanishing from the streets?" He asked back, not breaking his stride.

"Yeah, I remember." I confirmed. "Those Brightstone jerks were pulling them off to drip feed Damsel so they could juice off her."

"Not all of them." He replied.

It took me a moment to grasp where he was going with that. "You mean she's making zombies?"

"More like mummies," he corrected as we reached the landing. "Trust me on this one, that's much worse."

Finding Knox up here was easy enough; though I seriously wish we didn't. Not in the state he was in. To say he got his ass kicked would have been understating the case; hell, to say he was beaten nearly to death would be putting it lightly. How that happened without either of us knowing it was a mystery on its own. I knew bringing him in on this was a bad call!

I cursed as I sprinted towards him before Adam could object. Falling back on my old skills as an EMT I gave him a look over; he was busted up as badly as anything I ever saw, and he was bleeding out. It reminded me of my own last night among the living ten years ago.

Believe it or not, me and Marko were partners; the both of us were emergency medics running in the same ambulance. There was this one night a couple of years ago it occurred to me that since I wasn't half and handsome as I am now back then, he might not recognize me. That's one perk with being a Nosferatu; even in your home town you never have to worry about running into and getting made by any of your old friends or acquaintances. Hell, my own mother wouldn't know me anymore even if I walked right up to her and handed her a Mother's day card. Anyway, I asked him about his past before and he said it didn't matter anymore and he gave it no thought at all. He said the person he was is dead, and now who is now is who he is. In his own way, he has a point, I guess. I let it go at that. So the way it went is he drove the ambulance that night. We got a call that took us out to Mulholland Drive; some kind of domestic dispute that resulted in a house fire. When we got there, fire and rescue had two people that needed us; two females, one looked like she was suffering from smoke inhalation and the other looked like she was all burned up. We did our thing, and from what we could see they both should have been DOA. Were we ever in for a surprise. We never even got them to the hospital. Burn victim got me, and smoke inhalation got Marko. I remember his girl was wearing a cowgirl stripper outfit and mine was all done up in a leather body suit less the cowl. Looking back I should have noticed the outfit wasn't touched by flames. Sometimes even I get be a bonehead. Next Marko and I know, we're serving up liquid lunches straight from our arteries.

After that, we wake up in a cheesy room at the Lucky Star Hotel in Hollywood, jammed side by side on just about the filthiest bed on the block. The two women we pulled off Mulholland sitting on a couch across the room. Even before they could get a word out to explain what happened, the door crashes open and LaCroix's gorilla of a Sheriff and his thug deputies rush in staking all of us. We wake up on a stage with the other five of the Super Seven and all our respective sires, and that dandy of a Prince is giving his speech about Kindred law. We learned later that that was why Rodriguez was so adamantly against our execution; for Marko and I, it was because we were on Anarch turf and should be have been dealt with by Isaac. The way Isaac told it even later than that was the only reason he didn't object was because he would have been rightfully accused of trying to build up an army to force the Camarilla out of the city. To this night I have my doubts about that. I get the idea that Isaac wasn't really an Anarch at all; he just hated LaCroix so aligned himself with them.

But that's enough about me. Knox was well on his way to punching his ticket; no time to call emergency, and I had nothing else to keep him alive with. I saw no other way. I bared my fangs – not that that changed the look of my mouth much- and I swear I saw him smile as I plunged in to finish draining him. As I took the last bit, I could have sworn I heard him whisper, ever so faintly, that this was awesome. I knew better, but I had to finish what I started. I fed him some of my vitae, and thus completed his embrace.

"You stupid son of a bitch!" Walker growled.

"What was supposed to do?" I shot back. "Let him die?"

"Yes" Adam replied coldly. "He would have then been honored for dying in the line of duty, and we could have made sure his remains were reduced to ash when we torched this place. Instead, you cursed him with our damnation."

"Hold on," I said. "Torch this place? Are you serious? What about the people you found downstairs?"

"They are already dead!" Adam insisted, clearly getting agitated. "Cremation will be doing them a favor compared to what she has in mind for them." He hesitated, scrutinizing Knox and me. It would be about an hour or so before Knox woke up; assuming the embrace took hold. "We don't have much time," he said finally, shaking his head in frustration. "You take him and your books to the Warrens. Maybe Mitnick can decode the journal, and there's a chance Bertram might know what that other tome you have with you is. Whatever the case may be, we have to get him out of sight before the change starts manifesting itself in full. Once he's out of sight, he'll probably be unrecognizable and the Clan can up with an identity and a narrative for him to bring to the Prince. I'll take a look in the hidden attic and then clean up this end of the mess."

I wanted to argue with him. I wanted to blame him for what happened to Knox; that he should have been kept out of this in the first place. But I knew it would do no good; even if I was sure I was right. It didn't matter whose fault it was; it was done, and now Knox was my responsibility. Without a word I collected the books, hoisted Knox over my shoulder, and left the Mansion to find the quickest route back into the Warrens. I had a bad feeling that both Imalia and Bertram were gonna pissed. To tell the truth, I wasn't sure which one I was more afraid of.